


Five Fingers Left Over

by Evilawyer



Category: Foyle's War
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilawyer/pseuds/Evilawyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that a lie he told truly made anything better for anyone and still have five fingers left over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Fingers Left Over

**Author's Note:**

> Time Frame: At the beginning of "Eagle Day".

He remembers how hard it was telling Andrew about the birds and the bees. His own plan, formed without conscious thought in that first moment of elation when he'd learned his wife had delivered a healthy son, had been to wait until Andrew had gotten married and had a little one of his own before asking if he had any questions about how it had all happened. That's what his father did with him. 

Rosalind, though, had other ideas. She had just begun to feel unwell then, and she sat him down and told him that she wished for their son to grow up to be a responsible man, one who thought about the impact his actions would have on other people. She'd said that she wanted to leave this world knowing that she left a child she could be proud of after her, and that she trusted him, the husband she loved and didn't want to leave, to make sure it would be so.

It hadn't been love at first sight between Rosalind and him, but when he realized it was love, he knew that he wanted to grow old with her. It wasn't until that moment when she told him of her wishes for Andrew that he realized he'd _planned_ to grow old with her. It was also the moment he fully realized that it wasn't going to happen, and that what time they had left would have to be made to suffice.

Which is how he found himself explaining how babies were made and came into this world to a thirteen year old boy who'd started off fidgeting and giggling before settling down to listen quietly and who'd asked, once he'd finished his explanation, “Is that true, Dad?”

He has lied over the course of his life. He's never liked doing it, but he has. He's only human. People he's known, people he's counted among his friends, have tried to persuade him that telling a lie is sometimes the only way to makes things better for others. He's understood their point, but he can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that a lie he told truly made anything better for anyone and still have five fingers left over. 

Which is why when Andrew asks, “Did you ever kill anyone,” he can't bring himself to answer straight away. His friends would tell him that it would be all right to lie in response, that it's more important to let his son believe in a father who's never taken another man's life than it is to tell the truth. The War to End All Wars turned out to be anything but, however, and it would be unfair to Andrew to lie to him now.

Even so, it's hard. He buys time by drawing on one of his strengths and answers with a question of his own. “What, are you worried about maybe having to...?” As the words leave his mouth in the careful, measured way he tends to speak when he's drawing information out of a witness, he's aware that a tiny corner of his mind is hoping that Andrew will bluster in response, deny that he's thought of any such thing and claim that it doesn't matter anyway because Jerry has to be stopped no matter what. That would put an end to it. For now.

Andrew doesn't offer that way out. “I suppose I have begun to think about it.”

All he can do for a moment is look at his son, the son that only yesterday was a young boy, as different emotions wash over him: Surprise that Andrew would think of such a thing. Pride that he does think of such a thing. Sadness, such sadness, that he should have to think of such a thing. 

He tells Andrew the truth, but not the whole truth. He tells him he killed and that he got through it. What he doesn't tell Andrew is that getting through it isn't the same as getting over it.

And when Andrew responds back with “Hell or high water,” he knows it's a moment when he could answer with something like 'It's what you have to do' and be telling the truth. But knowing that you did what you had to do doesn't erase years of jolting awake in the middle of the night, of being all right one minute and feeling another man's blood spilling over your hands and hearing his gurgling last breath the next, of wondering what that man would have been in this world if it hadn't been for you. 

He hopes Andrew won't have to find out what these things feel like for himself, but lying to him now won't make it any easier for him if he does. The hell fire burns, the high water drowns, and you never walk away unscathed. There is no soothing answer that would not be a lie, and no lie could make it better. He says nothing more.

**Author's Note:**

> Interchange from the episode that gave rise to the fic:  
> Andrew: You never talk about the last war.  
> Foyle: Oh. Well. Not if I can help it.  
> Andrew: Well, you were in it.  
> Foyle: Yeah, and they were the worst 3 years of my life  
> Andrew: So, you were conscripted.  
> Foyle: No. Conscription didn't start until 1916. I volunteered.  
> Andrew: And?  
> Foyle: Well, um, went in as a private, um, got sent to France, uh, came out as, uh, what they called a 'temporary officer and a gentlemen' because there was nobody else left.  
> Andrew: Did you ever kill anyone?  
> Foyle: What, are you worried about maybe having to...?  
> Andrew: I suppose I have begun to think about it. Well? did you?  
> Foyle: Yes. Yeah, I did and all I can say is you get through it.  
> Andrew: Hell or high water.


End file.
